The past times, things go wrong
The wild swings, the heavy hits, in the back of some car
The wild hope, down the stairs, with lilies waiting tall
Painkill mixed with knockout from your locker, waiting to hit you
The bright light, the high load, all your sinister wicked rolls,
And all my time was wasted
We look at things in a wrong set of colors
Kisses a sunset, a razor a gun
We want it all but the price is a horror, and it would be you
A blind spot, a long face, listening from far
You've got the bends, a phobia, waiting to hit you
The bright light, the high load
You never know when he comes
And all the time was wasted
On wasteful things
